All Good Things__ - Michael Jan Friedman [55]
Of course, they hadn’t just leaped through time. They hadn’t been sitting there in Beverly Crusher’s sickbay, where a man’s eyes were growing younger, listening to reports of injuries that had healed themselves.
“We can’t really be certain that the… Light… has this power,” Picard replied. “And there may be dangers, side effects we’re not aware of….”
The Terellian wasn’t moved. “I have five ships full of sick and dying people, Captain. If there’s even a chance it’s true, I can’t turn back now.”
However, the captain could be persistent too. “It would be safer for all concerned if you left the Neutral Zone… and let us investigate the phenomenon more fully.”
Androna shook his head. “No, my friend. I’ve come too far. I choose to remain here.”
Picard was frustrated with this response. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the authority to order them away.
“I warn you,” he said, “that if the Romulans should decide to intervene, I may not be able to protect you.”
“I understand,” answered the Terellian. “We’ll take that risk. Good luck, Captain—to both of us.”
A moment later, Androna’s image was gone. Picard mulled the situation over for a moment, then headed for his ready room. As he passed Tasha, he said, “You have the bridge, Lieutenant.” She nodded. “Aye, sir.”
The doors parted for him, giving him access to a place where he could stop and think for a moment. Where…
… nothing looked familiar. But then, why should it? He wasn’t on the Enterprise any longer. He was in Beverly’s ready room on the Pasteur. Damn, thought Picard. I’ve shifted again.
As he moved toward the door, the deck suddenly bucked beneath his feet, nearly throwing him to the ground. Hearing the red-alert klaxon, he made use of whatever handholds presented themselves and ventured out uncertainly onto the bridge.
Beverly was sitting in the center seat, giving orders. But there was nothing on the viewscreen to explain why.
“What’s going on?” he asked, loud enough to be heard.
Beverly turned in her seat. “We’re under attack, Jean-Luc.”
Just then, the ship was rocked again. But still, Picard couldn’t pinpoint the cause of it.
“Shield strength down to fifty-two percent,” called out Chilton. “Minor damage to the port nacelle.”
Worf looked up from the console he’d commandeered. “Three Klingon attack cruisers have decloaked to port and starboard.” His expression was not a joyous one. “We are surrounded!”
CHAPTER 19
A third time, the ship was walloped by Klingon fire. Holding tight to her armrests, Beverly gritted her teeth.
It had been a long time since she’d been in a battlem and she wasn’t about to engage in one now, if she could help it. Especially not with the deck stacked so thoroughly against her.
She looked to Chilton and kept her tone as even as possible. “Warp speed, Ensign. Get us out of here!”
Chilton worked at her conn board. “I can’t comply. Warp power off-line, sir.”
Another jolt. This time, Beverly was nearly torn from her chair.
“Bring us about,” she commanded. “Course one-four- eight mark two-one-five. Full impulse.”
The ship came about, but it didn’t do them much good. The Klingon attack cruisers were right on their tail. Yet again, they were raked by enemy fire. On the bridge, they felt the impact as a series of vicious jerks.
“Warp power fluctuating,” Chilton announced. “Shields down to thirty percent.”
Beverly bit her lip. Behind her, she heard a familiar voice make itself heard over the melee. “Weapons status, Mr. Worf7.”
For that one moment, Picard almost looked and sounded like his old self. It was as if he’d temporarily shrugged off the debilitating effects of his disease and become the master strategist again.
What’s more, the answer he’d demanded wasn’t long in coming. “These phasers are no match for their shields, sir. Our only hope is to escape.”
Consumed with anger, Beverly whirled. “I thought you said I had eight hours, Worf. What the hell are they doing here now?”
“These must be ships from some other sector,” the Klingon shot back. He frowned at his monitor,